An Outsider Looking In
by Kimmeth
Summary: They are superheroes, but they are not superhuman. Sometimes the Watchmen need help from the outside. Rating changed for swearing and violence although not hideously graphic. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **They are superheroes, but they are not superhuman. Sometimes the Watchmen need help from the outside.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them. But man, would I love to own Bubastis? Hell Yes.

**Note: **This is written in the first person from the point of view of an anonymous third party. I have used this style before in another fandom and it got good feedback, and it seemed to fit the situation here.

This third party can be anyone you want – their identity isn't important to the plot. I tend to always think of my narrators as female because I'm female, but it isn't necessary.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Prologue**

The Keene Act was passed today. I knew it would pass, I think everyone did.

The Watchmen are no more.

I treated them all at one point or another. (Aside from the miracle man of course. The day Dr Manhattan needs a doctor the world will implode into a painful puff of logic, or the lack thereof.) They even called me out to see Rorschach once, although our paths were the least likely to cross, I must admit.

They were superheroes, but they weren't superhuman. They bruised and bled and hurt like any others of our race. They were tough, I'll give them that much. They didn't need me often, but when they did, I could guarantee that it was going to be spectacular when I arrived.

I always went to them, never the other way round. It somewhat spoils the illusion of invincibility when the Watchmen drag one of their compatriots into ER, doesn't it? It's so long ago now but I can clearly remember how we first met, and I know that soon afterwards I knew the way to their 'secret' base like the back of my hand. If anyone seemed worried by a doctor creeping down darkened allies in the dead of night, white coat fresh from the hospital and black bag full of tricks, then they didn't show it.

It had been a night like any other. I was going home after a shift, dead on my feet and yearning for sleep when I turned the corner and saw it, the vision that would change my life forever. Those famous vigilantes locked in combat with nameless wrongdoers, the blood and pain being dispensed to such gruesome levels that I had to look away, hide myself round the corner, but however much I tried I couldn't turn around completely and walk away, convincing myself that nothing had happened, that I had decided to take a different route home from work that night. I was compelled to stay and see the result of the carnage, although I still don't see why I did, even today. As the sound of the human destruction died down, so I allowed myself to peer again at the tableau.

There was death. There always was when Rorschach was around, no matter how much they tried to restrain his tendencies; they couldn't watch him all the time. But I didn't notice that. I only noticed the living, and more important, the injured.

Again, to this day I do not know what made me move forward instead of back. Perhaps it's simply because I'm unable to shake off the doctor in me. I remember wondering what I was doing at the time, my mind completely detached as my hands worked automatically through the processes they had learned: morphine, tourniquets, snapping dislocated bones back into place. I was amazed that I had been so bold as to walk into their world unannounced and uninvited. I was even more amazed that they had let me.

He had been grateful, in his own gruff, inimitable way, forever laughing at the irony that the heroes should need a doctor, those who fought crime with tooth and talon every day should finally need outside help. After I'd finished I packed up and I was ready to walk away, ready to close the incident off as one of a kind. The Comedian staggered on his bandaged leg, regained his balance and lit a cigar, ready close the incident off as one of a kind.

"Wait," Night Owl had said as I turned to leave. "Thank you."

I nodded, and then I left them.

I left them with my card. If you ever need me, I said, call me.

I waited a long time, although I can't really say that I waited, since I wasn't expecting the call. The caller didn't need to identify himself. I could remember the voice. I could tell in an instant.

"Doctor, we need you."

He gave me a set of directions and then I was there. They were part of my life once again, or was I a part of theirs?

I never did more than my job. I never needed to. I never spoke of anything but my task. I never asked how they had come to be in such positions. It wasn't my job to know. I never knew anything of the real identities behind the masks. I didn't want to. It was always the same in that dark chamber, working in the light from the Owlship, with the Comedian laughing quietly in the background at the fact they'd had to call the doctor out again, with the other doctor watching my work with an unworldly curiosity, with Rorschach's ever moving face on me, never trusting, always wary of the outsider even when the outsider was ultimately saving his life.

It was a strange existence, never knowing when I might be called, never knowing quite how much damage to expect when I arrived after having received that call from out of the blue. I think I'm going to miss it, in an odd sort of way. It was strange to be an outsider gaining a privileged glimpse into their closed, ordered world.

What's even stranger is the fact that it is only now, when I know that I will not receive the call again, that I keep on waiting for the phone to ring, anxious to hear the voice again.

"Doctor, we need you."

* * *

**Note 2: **Basically I refused to believe that they didn't need professional medical attention once in a while, no matter how amazing they were!!

If people enjoyed that then I plan to expand this, going on to tell the individual stories of how the doctor ended up treating all of them at one point or another. Please leave a review but please be constructive – I'm new to this world and I am going from the movie, not the book. (My flatmate's promised to lend it… when he remembers.)

If you'd like to see the stories but didn't like the anonymous style then do say, I am open to suggestion and I like to think I'm flexible.


	2. The Comedian

**Note:** Hello again folks! Thanks for the feedback and the interest, here goes! I have changed the style a little bit. The first part of each story will be told in 3rd person from the POV of one of the Watchmen (I daresay probably Dan as he's usually the one to call the doc…) and will detail the circumstances leading to them needing the doctor. The second part will be told from the doctor's POV in the same style as before, and will show the interaction whilst s/he is patching them up.

**Note 2: **If this one seems familiar, it is because it is the same incident as the first chapter, but expanded. I apologise for the repetition but I feel that the story of their first meeting needs to be done proper justice. And I'd just like to say that my medical knowledge comes from my penpal and the Internet. If any doctors read this and cringe, please advise!!

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**The Comedian**

It didn't matter how calmly he tried to handle the situation, it always ended up being a bloodbath, thought Dan as he jumped from the airship, sighing inwardly at having to break up, or attempt to break up at least, another fight to the death that had begun between his comrades and the criminals they'd been following. He didn't know whose idea it had been to bring together two of the most bloody-minded and morally ambiguous vigilantes in the same team, but one could always guarantee that when Rorschach and the Comedian were on the hunt together, the body count would be significantly higher than usual.

There had been five of them in a group, all slimy, leering individuals, bedecked in greasy black leather and chains, cat-calling the women who hurried past them on the street. For a while they hadn't needed to do anything, they just sat waiting in Archie, the lights and engines off. All too soon however, the alcohol that could be smelt a mile away had taken its toll. The jeering and crude suggestions had turned to grabbing and groping, and one woman wasn't quick enough to escape their grasping clutches. Scared and disorientated by the goosing, she had turned around the nearest corner, only to find herself trapped.

And that was when it had all kicked off once again. Dan could see a pattern in each of their escapades, and this particular one was proving to be no different. A previously tense situation would become dangerous, and then Eddie would rush in all guns blazing in the most literal sense of the words. Rorschach, incensed by what he was seeing and the scum they were dealing with, would want in on the fight and then it would be up to everyone else to try and defuse it, and to perform the necessary damage limitation afterwards. More often than not, this task fell to Dan, and he was getting tired of it.

He entered the alleyway to find, with a sinking heart, that his suspicions were confirmed. Neither of his comrades was given to reasonable conversation, both dancing to the tune of 'pull apart first, ask questions of the pieces later'. Was it any wonder that the politicians were thinking of outlawing them?

One of the attackers was dead already, the scarlet pooling under his mangled body, torn and twisted limbs revealing several broken bones. That would have been Rorschach's doing, no doubt of that. Another was almost there, riddled with bullet holes. The remaining three were putting up quite a fight considering, but Dan knew that it wouldn't be long before they realised that it was a hopeless struggle and they turned tail, only to be followed to the bitter end... He looked around for the young woman, finally spotting her cowering in a boarded up doorway, watching the action in horror, a pattern of red spots over her face and chest suggesting that she had been a little too close when she had been 'saved' from her assailant.

"Glad you could join us!" said Eddie as he saw Dan moving into the melee, although he stopped grinning like the Cheshire cat when he realised that he was out of ammunition. "Fuck, I knew I'd left something behind." Dan ducked as Eddie tossed the gun aside, making his way towards the woman. He held out a hand to help her up but she shrank away instead. He smiled reassuringly, despite the sinking feeling inside. How could they be heroes if the people they helped were as scared of their saviours as they were of their attackers? She uttered a muted scream as he moved towards her again, and Dan frowned, but then he realised that she was not looking at him, but rather over his shoulder. He turned and saw the knife first, the person wielding it second, but only for a split second before a flash of black had bowled the would-be assassin out of the way.

Dan made a mental note to thank Adrian after they'd sorted the mess out. The woman accepted his hand more readily now and he pulled her up, running her out of the alley enveloped in his cape. He would have liked to have stayed with her, made sure she was safe and wouldn't be too shaken by her ordeal, but an increase in the noise from behind him made him rush back without imparting the words of comfort he would have liked to. He had recognised the roar of pain, and sure enough, when he arrived back at their grimy battlefield, Eddie was on the ground in the midst of the bodies, clutching his leg. Adrian was trying to assess the damage, and Rorschach was nowhere to be found. Dan quickly counted the bodies and came to the sickening realisation that they were one short. There was a sharp scream from a few blocks away, one that quickly faded into gurgling.

"What happened?" he asked, bending down and grimacing at the sight of blood and bones at odd angles.

"The bastard dislocated my fucking knee, that's what happened," said Eddie thickly through his unlit cigar. Dan rolled his eyes heavenwards in despair and turned to Adrian.

"Can we do anything?"

"Short of dragging him to ER? No, not really."

Dan groaned as he stood again.

"You know, if you just listened and didn't go off like this then you wouldn't be in this position!" he exclaimed, before something pale caught his eye, moving in the shadows. He ignored the profanity he received by way of reply and instead felt his heart soar as the white shape moved forward into the light towards them.

Of all the miracles that could have happened at that moment…

They'd found a doctor.

* * *

What on Earth did I think I was doing? I had just listened to these men kill five people, however despicable, and now I was calmly walking into their domain, intending to help. It wasn't the moral irony of the situation that astounded me, more the participants in it. I couldn't get my head round it; I couldn't make myself accept what was going on. I had just witnessed the Watchmen fight their foes and now I was going to fix the dislocated knee of the Comedian for God's sake.

I was surprised that they let me through. I would have thought that I wouldn't be allowed into their world, but then again, I daresay they'd prefer this option to the idea of going to a hospital and trying to explain themselves. I put my bag down on the ground and opened it, trying to focus on the task at hand. I was a doctor, I was doing my job, aiding the injured. I tried not to think of the circumstances that I happened to be doing my job in.

"What's up Doc?" my patient joked as I finished my initial examination and prepared a shot of morphine.

"Like you said," I replied, looking at the needle instead of his face. "He dislocated your knee. Badly."

Badly was an understatement. The bone was pressing against the skin, nearly coming through. There was nothing for it. I would simply have to push it back in.

"Right," I began, pushing up my sleeves. "This is going to hurt."

He laughed.

"What's new? This is funny. Isn't this funny? We're the amazing, infallible Watchmen, and here we are, having to get patched up by the doc after one escapade too many. Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here anyw.. FUCK!" He roared as I wrenched the bone back into place, the pain searing even through the morphine. I gritted my teeth and continued my work, bandaging the knee tightly to prevent my work being undone before moving away.

"You can stand up now, but it'll be painful. You'll have to keep that leg immobile for at least a fortnight." I began to pack up as he got off the floor gingerly and staggered.

"Thanks," he muttered, retrieving the cigar and lighting it, leaning up against the wall to watch me close my bag again and turn away, ready to go home and pretend that this strange incident had never happened. My intervention had been unwanted, unwarranted, and it would not be repeated.

"Wait." I turned back. Night Owl came forward a few steps. I'd almost forgotten that the others were there. "Thank you." The grateful tone in his voice was truly genuine.

I don't know what madness came over me and made me draw a card out of coat pocket and hand it over. I didn't think that I would ever know.

"If you ever need me, call."

I let myself look back once as I walked away. They were staring at the phone number on the card, thoughts unreadable.

* * *

I had almost forgotten the incident, although I knew I wasn't ever going to let such an extraordinary experience go completely when, one evening, watching politicians on the news warring over whether they should pass the Keene Bill, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

I recognised Night Owl's voice immediately.

"Doctor, we need you."

* * *

**Note 3: **Well, there it was: the first of the individual stories. I hope you liked it, and the next one will be better because there won't be any recycling!

Please leave a comment but as usual please be constructive.

I've had ideas for all of them (even Dr M) except Adrian, who is proving to be rather difficult, especially since I want the injuries to be different each time.


	3. Silk Spectre

**Note: **Thanks for continued support, here's Laurie's chapter, and I think it might just be longer than the other two put together! In the doctor's part, I feel really weird writing 'Night Owl' and 'Silk Spectre' all the time instead of just Dan and Laurie, I feel it makes the writing stilted, but since s/he doesn't know their real identities I can't use their real names, so bear with it.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Silk Spectre**

Dan was forever grateful that life was so much easier when he only had to keep an eye on one of either Eddie or Rorschach, and even more grateful for the rare occasions when he didn't have to keep an eye on either of them. It was once such rare occasion tonight, and he was making the most of it. Laurie had noticed the upward change in his demeanour as soon as they had set off in Archie for a regular patrol.

"May I ask why you're suddenly smiling like the cat that's got the cream?"

"No reason. I'm simply looking forward to an evening of relaxed crime-fighting, you know, the usual."

"Since when has crime-fighting ever been relaxing?" Laurie laughed. "Nearly getting killed calms you down?"

"Anything that doesn't involve Eddie and Rorschach is relaxing," said Dan pointedly. They were over the city at this point, staring down at the dim lights below, drifting quietly alongside the penthouses. It always looked so peaceful from up there. You couldn't see the dirt until you got close. "Where next?"

"What's that?"

"I said 'where next?'"

"No, that!" Laurie peered through the glass at one of the windows below them. It was in darkness, and Dan couldn't see anything, even through his goggles.

"There's nothing there, Laurie."

"I could have sworn I saw something, fighting."

Dan looked at her sideways. She was completely in earnest, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing there."

She relaxed very slightly.

"Do you want to go and check it out from the ground?" Dan asked. They weren't doing anything else anyway, and after all, they were on patrol. Investigating things was their job, in a way.

"No, it's fine, if you say it's nothing…" she tailed off and nodded under Dan's scrutinous gaze. He gently brought Archie into land and they stepped out onto the darkened street, looking up at the window, about halfway up the building.

"It looks ok from the outside." Dan made towards a side entrance, checking the lock. At that moment, with no prior warning, something smashed through the glass of Laurie's window and landed with a thud in the road, showering them with shards. When Dan saw the someone who jumped out of the window and landed with marginally more grace than the first, he knew at once that the dark shape lying in the gutter was beyond saving.

"Rorschach. Fancy meeting you here. Laurie thought she'd seen something in that window."

"Running prostitution ring from apartment," Rorschach grunted. "Three whores dead upstairs. Pimp wouldn't go quietly. Needed persuasion."

"Lovely."

Dan made to go over to the body, wondering if he should try to explain this one to the relevant authorities, or just leave it.

"Dan…" Laurie's voice was weak and wavering. He glanced over at her and felt the colour drain from his face. She'd been closer to the glass from the window than he'd expected, and the flying shards had lacerated her bare leg above her boot. To make matters worse, a particularly large piece was still lodged in her skin.

"Shit!" There was only one place to go from there. The body in the gutter long forgotten, Dan swept Laurie up into his arms and ran back towards Archie. "Come on Rorschach. Patrol's been postponed for the night."

Rorschach appeared to follow them reluctantly, opening Archie's doors for them and engaging the ignition whilst Dan settled Laurie in as comfortable position as possible, before sliding away and letting him take the controls and begin to fly.

Dan was amazed that he had managed to get them back in one piece; he kept glancing over at Laurie's paling face every few seconds to make sure she was still with them. He cursed Rorschach inwardly. He really should think before he threw people out of windows. Who knows who they might land on? He switched the lights on in Archie's 'cave' before going back and helping Laurie out of the Owlship. He put her down on the ground, leaning her against the wall, and looked around for something, anything that would help. He didn't think that the meagre first-aid kit he kept in the kitchen would be much use against the incision, which was a good six inches long. His eyes settled on the phone, mentally admitting defeat and preparing to call 911 for an ambulance. Then he looked at the card sitting unostentatiously next to the phone, a simple white card with a name and number.

The doctor.

"We can call the doctor out here," he said eventually, answering his own mental question out loud.

"What?" asked Rorschach sharply.

"The doctor who fixed Eddie's dislocated knee a couple of months back gave us a card and said to ring if we needed to."

Rorschach grunted in obvious disapproval and Dan sighed.

"We've got to do something! We can't just leave Laurie like this indefinitely. If it's a choice between us trying to do something and getting it wrong because we don't have a clue what we're doing or getting professional help, I think that the professional is the better route to take."

"Call Veidt," suggested Rorschach bluntly, "he knows everything."

"He's not a doctor," Dan snapped back. He turned to Laurie, stifling a gasp at how sickly her pallor had become in the last few minutes. "Laurie, it's up to you. Do you want to keep it in house or shall we call the doctor?"

Laurie looked up at her teammates and then down again at the shard of glass embedded in her thigh. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, she would just prefer to utilise the option of being treated by someone who knew what they were doing since it was open to her.

"Doctor," she said through gritted teeth, screwing up her face against the tears of pain. She didn't want to cry in front of them, to cement her status as the weak female of the group. She concentrated on breathing evenly, trying to avoid resorting to ragged gasps of pain. Dan was worried enough as it was, she didn't want to panic him further.

Rorschach growled under his breath as Dan moved to the phone.

"It's not right, getting Doc to come here. What if…"

"There are a thousand 'what ifs', Rorschach, and I don't want to be responsible for the very obvious one right now. That glass is in deep. It's the only thing stopping her bleeding to death."

Laurie took a sharp intake of breath at this, not wanting to be reminded of her fragile state.

Dan picked up the card that the Doctor had given them all those weeks ago when their paths had crossed in the alley and dialled the number.

"Hello?" said the crackly, vaguely familiar voice at the other end of the line.

"Doctor, we need you."

* * *

I looked down at the hastily scribbled directions that Night Owl had given me, working my way carefully down the back streets, pausing occasionally to melt into the shadows and avoid the violent drunkards that seemed to permeate the city. If the Watchmen needed me then it was fairly obvious that they weren't in any position to save me from the dangers of downtown New York. I slipped into the disused underground system and began to move towards the faint light at the end of the tunnel. I didn't know what to expect. Night Owl hadn't said anything to me on the phone other than how to reach them in their secret abode. What kind of injuries were they likely to have encountered in their line of work? Knives, guns, psychopaths, all required different treatment, and I should probably get a move on if I wanted to be of any use. I just prayed that they had enough common sense and first aid knowledge between them to be able to hold on until I got there.

As I came closer to the light I could make out familiar voices.

"This is ridiculous," rasped one. "The Doc's not coming. It's been half an hour. Probably just taken directions to the press. Or the police."

"Rorschach!" Night Owl sounded exasperated at his comrade but also nervous. I couldn't tell whether it was because of the medical emergency or whether Rorschach's words had hit home. I sped up and the voices got louder, reassuring me that I was going in the right direction.

"How are you doing?" Night Owl asked someone. The reply was inaudible, and I moved forward with increased purpose until I emerged from the tunnel into the light.

I tried not to show my awe at my surroundings, the cavernous chamber playing host to the Owlship. It seemed bigger in the enclosed space than it did on the TV screen.

"I'm here," I said. "What's the problem?"

Night Owl turned and I saw the relief in his visible features. He stepped aside and let me pass to see my patient. Silk Spectre was propped up against the wall, left thigh a mess of lacerations, with one in particular standing out due to the large piece of glass that was protruding from it, almost mocking us.

I resisted the urge to swear. I had dealt with this sort of thing before, but usually in an aseptic operating theatre with an anaesthetist and a couple of nurses on hand, not in an abandoned subway station being observed warily by two superheroes. I glanced up to see Rorschach watching me, the patterns on his face hidden in shadows. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but his stance was defensive and taut, as if he was ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. I returned to the task at hand, opening my bag and pulling on my gloves.

"Do you feel faint?" I asked. "It looks like you've lost quite a bit of blood."

Silk Spectre shook her head.

"I'll survive. Just get the glass out, please."

She was obviously in pain and the glass had obviously gone deep, but it might not be so bad as long as the femoral artery hadn't been severed. I cleaned the area around the wound, gritting my teeth as she gave a sharp exhalation against the stinging from the alcohol.

"So you're the mysterious doctor," she said eventually as I gave her a painkiller and continued to examine her wound, cleaning and checking the other cuts for glass before trying to work out how the hell I was going to operate in the circumstances.

"Yes," I replied, weighing up my options. I turned to Night Owl.

"I'll need to sew up the wound here. It's deep and I don't want it to get infected. I'll need a fairly sterile area to operate." I looked up at the airship beside me, its headlights illuminating my working area. "Do you use sterile steam in that thing?"

"Of course." He leapt onto the ship and detached a pipe. "Where do you want it?"

I indicated behind me and turned away to shield myself from the blast. Once he was done fixing the tube back into place he jumped down next to me, both of us ignoring the first rule of first aid and carefully moving Silk Spectre onto the crudely sterilised area. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. I pulled out a needle and suture thread. The only thing left to do was take the glass out. It hadn't severed the artery, I was fairly certain of that, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't lose a lot of blood as a result. I held my breath and gave a gentle tug. Silk Spectre gave an exclamation of shock – luckily the morphine was doing its job – and I saw the blood begin to pool immediately. It had gone through a vein, not the artery, but it was going to be impossible to sew up in time. I pressed down on the pressure point and looked up at the others.

"I need a tourniquet, quickly. A tie, a towel, a belt, anything I can tighten around her leg to cut off the circulation."

Night Owl rushed around the room, looking for something to serve the purpose. I could tell that he was beginning to panic; there was no method in his search, and he knew it – the more he panicked the less likely he was to be of use, and that thought was making him panic even further. Rorschach stayed watching me, motionless, hands now deep in the pockets of his trench coat. His _belted_ trench coat.

"I can't find anything," said Night Owl. "Nothing you could tighten, at least."

The blood was still pooling around the glass, despite my best efforts with the pressure point in her groin. He followed my eye-line to Rorschach on the balcony.

"Please Rorschach."

He turned and melted into the shadows. Night Owl cursed violently and hit the airship beside him.

"Bastard…"

"There's no time," I said. "I can't leave the glass half in and half out. Now I've started I've got to finish. I'll just have to do it without the tourniquet and pray. Here, keep the pressure on the blood vessels." Night Owl looked uncomfortable at the prospect of placing his hand in his teammate's groin. They exchanged a brief glance and she nodded, looking genuinely scared for the first time since I'd arrived, her pallor now grey and breathing ragged.

Gingerly Night Owl took over the pressure point and I went to tug at the glass again, but before I could do so, something dark dangled in front of my face. Rorschach dropped his coat belt into my hands.

"Wasn't very clean," he rasped. "I put it in the steam tank."

I applied the makeshift tourniquet on autopilot, tightening it until the blood stopped seeping and I could pull out the glass. I sewed up as quickly and neatly as I could, focussing fully on my task. It was only when I had finished bandaging Silk Spectre's thigh and I was removing the belt that I allowed my mind to wander. Rorschach was not a trusting person, and it was obvious that he didn't trust me, the outsider, yet he had helped me in the end. I wondered why he had done it. Obligation to help his fellows? Fear for the Spectre's life?

I was still deep in thought as said my brief goodbyes and left them, walking slowly down the train tracks. I was pondering Rorschach's motivations, Night Owl's rising panic, Spectre's bravery.

I was wondering what I should expect if and when I was called again…

* * *

**Note 2: **As I have said before, I am not a medical professional. Please, please do not use these methods of first aid. Should you find yourself with glass embedded in your thigh please call an ambulance and get yourself to your nearest A&E department/ ER.

I always knew that Laurie's would involve being sewn up. That costume is absolutely ridiculous…


	4. Night Owl

**Note: **Hello again folks, thank you for the continued support. I am trying to make all the situations a little different in some way, and I think this one is a good example of that. I had great fun writing it although it was an uphill struggle not to let it degenerate into a complete and utter farce. It may also become apparent that I had been playing cluedo shortly before writing it.

I would have posted this last night but fanfic was playing up... Grrr...

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Night Owl**

Considering that they had begun outnumbered three to one and their foes had just as much firepower, if not more, than they did, Dan felt that the fight was going quite well. In his peripheral vision he could see that Eddie was in his element, positively roaring with laughter as spent cartridges littered the ground by his feet. On the other side, at the end of the street, a crowd was gathering to watch the show.

"Since when did crime fighting become a spectator sport?" he asked Adrian, both ducking as Eddie decided to do things 'the quick way' and fire over the top of their heads.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps when Eddie decided…" He never finished the sentence, attention distracted by a man weighing at least five hundred pounds wielding a metre of lead piping. He was a formidable foe, seeming to absorb anything that was thrown at him, although his bulk did not make him immune to flammability. Having run out of bullets, Eddie had, unperturbed, broken out the flamethrower. It must have been a special occasion, reflected Dan dryly as he wrestled another weapon away from a member of the gang. The flamethrower rarely saw any outings. He managed to throw his opponent to the ground and stepped back, knowing that Eddie would be anxious to finish the job, but before he had a chance, the man on the floor had reached for the nearest available armament.

Dan could see it coming, but he couldn't react quickly enough to dodge the spanner that had been aimed at his left temple. It struck with a sickening thud and he fell to the ground, world spinning and blackness threatening the edge of his vision. Eddie finished frying Dan's attacker before sauntering over and yanking him upright. That didn't help matters, and he staggered before falling out of his teammate's vice-like grip and slumping on the ground again with a groan.

"Shit," said Eddie simply. "He hit you harder than I thought." His brow furrowed. "Are you bleeding, Dreiberg?"

Dan could feel it running down the side of his face beneath his cowl, sticking material to skin.

"Yes," he croaked, but Eddie didn't do anything, he simply stood there watching him with a mixture of awe and disgust, although mainly disgust.

"Dan?" Adrian came over having dispersed the crowd. "Christ, you're bleeding."

"Well observed." Even through the haze of enforced sleep from the blow and nausea from the blood, Dan could still feel annoyed. "Well, don't just stand there! Help me!"

"What can we do?" asked Eddie. "Neither of us are docs."

"Well…" he struggled to keep the words coming out, looking round his surroundings as best he could from his prone position. An idea struck him as he spotted a payphone on the corner of the street in the shadows. "Call the real doc then."

"Who?"

"The doc who fixed you and Laurie up… The card's in Archie… Just say 'we need you'… Doc'll understand…"

Eddie and Adrian looked at each other warily.

"Don't look at me," snorted Eddie through his cigar. "You're Mr PR."

"Fine."

Dan closed his eyes, willing them to get a move on. Adrian might be the smartest man in the world, but, Dan thought, intelligence was in no way the same thing as common sense. Finally he heard the words he was waiting for.

"Doctor, we need you."

"Hang on in there Dan," said Eddie. "The doc's coming. How many times have we had to resort to professional help now? We may as well set up our own hospital."

Dan relaxed, but then he remembered something and tried to sit upright again, but the pain in his head forced him back down.

"What is it?" asked Adrian.

"We've got… to go… home." Dan grimaced at the thought of moving, even more so at the thought of someone else flying Archie. "The doc… won't come… here… Knows to… to go… to cave…"

Eddie sighed,

"Only one thing for it then."

Dan let himself slide into semi-consciousness as Eddie threw him bodily over his shoulder and made for Archie.

* * *

I was worried, on several counts. Firstly, there was no light at the end of the tunnel and I was beginning to think that I had taken a wrong turning somewhere along the line. I looked down again at the instructions that Night Owl had given me on my first visit. I had studied them carefully for weeks afterwards, occasionally pondering taking a walk, just to see what happened. But I always restrained myself. I was allowed into their world by invitation only, and every time I thought about trespassing there, a small voice in the back of my mind asked me if I really wanted to know what was going on. I had followed the directions to the letter. I couldn't possibly have gone wrong.

Secondly, I had not recognised the voice on the phone as Night Owl's. It had seemed familiar, no doubt of that, familiar enough for me to trust it, but I couldn't quite place it. I had reached the chamber by this time, although I could barely make it out as such in the darkness. It was deserted, lifeless. I shuddered at that thought and groped around for a light-switch on the wall, running my hands over the cold bricks. I had only been here once before, and my mind had been somewhat preoccupied.

"Hello?" I called. "Night Owl?"

There was no reply. I hadn't expected there to be. Why would he be waiting silently in the dark?

My fingertips found a switch and I flicked it on, bathing the room in dim light. It was exactly the same as I remembered it, although there was a gaping space where the airship should have been, its powerful headlamps spotlighting my makeshift operating theatre.

"Hello?" I called again, completely aware of the futility and feeling stupid for even trying. I began to worry. What if the familiar voice had been familiar for the wrong reasons? What if someone had found out about my involvement with the Watchmen and had decided to use me to find their secret lair? Had I just unwittingly lead a villain to their sanctuary? I was fairly sure I hadn't been followed, but who could tell in the darkness? I leaned against the wall to gather my thoughts and evaluate the situation. If I had been called under false pretences, then I probably shouldn't waste time here. The damage would already have been done and I didn't want to make it worse. At the same time, however, I felt compelled to stay and tell them what had happened, to warn them in case something untoward should happen as a result of my visit. I decided that leaving would probably be better than hanging around, and I walked out onto the train tracks ready to quickly retrace my steps and go home. No sooner had I done so than a screeching noise filled my ears and bright headlights blinded me. The Owlship was coming along the line towards me at what appeared to be a hundred miles an hour. I only just had enough time to leap out of the way before it came to a shrieking stop in the cave. The doors hissed open, raised voices immediately becoming audible, and relief flooded my veins as I recognised the person who had called me.

"You idiot! You nearly got us all killed!"

"Hell, I don't know how to drive this thing! It doesn't help when the pilot's out cold!"

"I did offer."

"I know how many cars you've got through."

"And I'll bet it's a damn sight less than you. How the hell did you get your licence?"

I picked myself off the ground and saw two figures emerge from the ship deep in a preposterous but completely genuine argument, a third in no state to be doing any arguing at all. Ozymandias and the Comedian didn't notice my presence until Night Owl, hoisted over the latter's shoulder, stirred slightly with a groan. They turned and saw me standing there, and the dispute ended abruptly.

"What's up Doc?" asked the Comedian cheerfully, putting Night Owl down as I pulled on examination gloves.

"What's the problem?" I asked by way of reply.

"He got himself hit in the side of the head with a spanner," came the reply. I made to cross the floor but my path was blocked by a jet of flame as the Comedian lit his cigar with a flamethrower. I raised an eyebrow and finally got to Night Owl. He was mumbling something in his semi-conscious state.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" I asked.

"Twenty-six," called the Comedian from behind me. Ozymandias spared me the effort of a sigh of despair. I turned again to Night Owl.

"Six," he croaked. The Comedian snorted with laughter. "I feel sick…"

"It's just concussion," I reassured. "Let me see the wound."

"Sure…" He made no move to take off his hood, and I stifled an exclamation of exasperation, looking up at the other two.

"A little assistance?"

Ozymandias came over and helped me peel the hood away from his head where the blood had dried and formed a grim form of glue. I couldn't help but notice his face, or rather the fact that I could see his face. I didn't know why it made me uncomfortable, after all, Silk Spectre never wore a mask as a matter of necessity. Perhaps it was the fact that I was used to dealing with Night Owl as a half-faceless superhero, and now he had a face, an identity. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and concentrated on examining the wound. It wasn't serious, steri-strips would do it, and it was comparatively clean.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked, glad that my task was relatively simple as I wiped away the blood and fixed the strips in place.

"Headache," he mumbled.

"Rest and ibuprofen," I said confidently.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Do you deal with many spanner injuries?" asked the Comedian. "Or is that something reserved for superheroes? Do you have a different bag of tricks for us?"

His voice was sarcastic, but I didn't think that the words were intended cruelly. He was more mocking the irony of the situation than my role in it. I packed up my kit and turned to face him. He was leaning on the airship, chewing on his cigar, much like the position I had left him in all those months ago when I had relocated his knee. He was looking down at Night Owl.

I jumped onto the train tracks and hesitated, glancing back. I felt guilty leaving him like that, but I didn't know what else I could do. I had done what I had been called out to do, and I couldn't do much more. Normally I would leave my patient in Night Owl's hands, confident that he was capable of taking care of them from then on. But he couldn't exactly take care of himself that point.

"Will you be ok?" I asked them pointedly.

Ozymandias nodded and went to hoist Night Owl's weight around his shoulders.

"Thanks for coming," he said. "I'm sorry we weren't here when you arrived." He shot a glance at the Comedian, who threw his hands up in defence. They'd be alright. I smiled as I set off into the darkness, not wanting to be drawn into a continuation of their earlier argument.

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time I got home. I flicked on the TV, ready to fall asleep in front of the previous day's news round-up: foreign wars, the Keene Bill, Adrian Veidt opening his new building: the usual suspects, but something made me double take. Veidt's voice seemed more familiar than usual. I thought of the night's call; a familiar voice I couldn't place.

Maybe I would ask the next time I was called. But then again, like with my prospective illicit visits to the cave, maybe I didn't want to know.

* * *

**Note 2: **I don't know when Ozy 'came out' as such in relation to time frame, but I'm taking it to be a post-Keene Act revelation.

Also on the subject of time, I actually went looking for the date when steri-strips and ibuprofen were invented to try and make this authentic. (Mid seventies and 1969 respectively, so I'm ok!)

Just the usual left to say then: please review but please be constructive.


	5. Rorschach

**Note: **Right, this one was difficult, I'll admit that much. I sat down at my laptop to write the next chapter and I realised that I had the three most difficult characters left to do. I may have sworn a bit. But I had an idea and I was damn well going to run with it. So after much hair tearing out, I present (somewhat cautiously since I know he's got a **massive** following), Rorschach.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Rorschach**

Dan tried but failed to stifle a yawn as he flew Archie slowly back to the cave in the early hours of the morning. The commuters were beginning their journeys below them, blissfully unaware of the night's events. They had been much like any others, Dan reflected. Something that didn't need to have ended in bloodshed had turned into an all-out battlefield on the top of a skyscraper. He glanced across at Rorschach, sitting silently next to him, and he wondered with a slight grimace how many people had been thrown hundreds of feet to their demise during the course of the fight.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, almost pleading. There was no reply. Dan glanced again at his partner. "Rorschach?"

The other man turned to him with a grunt, and Dan knew immediately that something wasn't right. The pattern on his mask was virtually motionless, the ink blots moving like snails over the fabric. Dan had never seen his face so still; normally it was so constantly shifting that it was disorientating.

"Are you alright?" he asked, alarmed.

"Fine," muttered Rorschach before he turned away again. "Watch the road."

Dan kept his eyes on the train tracks as he brought Archie into land, but he was becoming increasingly worried.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again as the doors opened with a hiss. Rorschach didn't grace him with a reply, simply getting up and walking unsteadily out of the ship. Dan followed and watched him begin to make his way along the tracks towards the street exit, stumbling every few steps. He looked back at the seat his teammate had occupied during their near silent journey and saw a dark burgundy stain spreading over the side.

Dan's blood ran cold as he remembered their fight. It had been frenetic, and he was concentrating on keeping himself on top of the building. He had left Rorschach to his own devices for once, confident that he could take care of himself. He remembered hearing shots fired, but he didn't remember any evidence of them having hit their target.

He ran down the track until he caught up with the other man.

"Rorschach, have you been _shot_?"

The answer was a grunt. Rorschach made to move away from Dan and continue his shaky journey, but Dan kept pace beside him. He could see the hole in the fabric of his coat now, about halfway up his left arm. How had he not noticed before?

"Rorschach this is absolutely ridiculous. You've been shot and you can barely walk straight. Come back. You can't go home in this state."

"I'm fine," Rorschach growled. "Seen worse."

"Worse than being shot?" Dan was incredulous. "No Rorschach, you need medical attention."

"I can do it myself."

"You're left-handed. How do you propose to get a bullet out of your left arm with your left hand?"

"I'll manage."

They were half-way along the tunnel at this point, when Rorschach lost his balance completely. Dan caught him.

"How the hell are you going to get home like this? Rorschach, we are going back to the cave and I am calling the doctor for you."

"No!" The voice was weaker than usual, but no less threatening. It was like a snarl, and Dan instinctively let go. Rorschach shrugged him away, constantly on the defensive, but Dan had worked with him long enough to recognise some of the involuntarily signals that his monochrome face gave out, and the quick pattern change showed he was hurting, whether he would admit it or not. Not, as the case turned out. He moved away, making slow progress down the dark passage.

"Rorschach, come back!"

"Good morning Dan."

"This is suicide!"

"Good morning!"

Dan sighed. He had half a mind to knock his partner out and drag him back, but that would only result in more injury for both parties at best. He turned on his heel and went back to the cave, staring at the phone on the wall for a long time. It wouldn't hurt to call the doc, would it? He was having serious doubts about Rorschach's ability to make it out of the tunnel in one piece, but he'd been proved wrong before. Surely it was better to be safe than sorry though. He picked up the card and dialled the doctor's number. He started when, instead of ringing, the phone beeped and a distant voice said "please hold whilst we redirect this number".

"Lenox Hill hospital switchboard, who can I connect you to?"

He read the name on the card and waited whilst he was put on hold. They'd never had to contact the doctor during the day before. It seemed more fraught with danger somehow. Ringing up a doctor at an actual hospital made the problem all too real. Finally a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Doctor, we need you."

Dan put the phone down and waited, wondering if he should go after Rorschach again or if he should wait for the doctor to arrive and then try to find him. On one hand, Rorschach would not appreciate Dan bringing a virtual stranger to his home, but on the other he would appreciate being followed even less. He peered into the darkness of the tunnel, wondering whether the doctor would come at all, or if Lenox Hill had a policy of not letting its staff disappear in the middle of shifts to hunt down paranoid vigilantes and forcibly give them first aid. He wondered how Rorschach was doing; cursing himself inwardly for not putting his foot down and insisting that he should come back to the cave.

* * *

I could see the faint light at the end of the tunnel this time, and it reassured me, but only slightly. Night Owl had sounded more worried than usual on the phone, and whilst I was never sure what to expect, I was even less sure now. I walked quickly along the tracks, trying hard to focus on something less worrying. The patterns running along the old, dark bricks of the tunnel; that would do it. I looked for pictures in them as I walked, like looking for the meaning in my psychiatric colleague's Rorschach cards. That thought brought me full circle and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to escape the task ahead of me. I continued to stare at the walls until something made me start. A real Rorschach pattern… It took me a few moments to realise that it was the vigilante himself, sitting on the ground in the tunnel, hunched up against the wall, hat pulled low over what I presumed to be his eyes.

"Rorschach?" I asked. "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

It seemed a stupid question, considering that we were only about a hundred yards from the Watchmen's base of operations, but still. He seemed to be in an odd position.

"Fine," he muttered. "He's through there."

Was he talking about Night Owl or my prospective patient? I wanted to stay and probe further, but something in his voice had made it clear that I would fast outstay my welcome if I didn't move soon. I continued down the tunnel into the light to find Night Owl working half-heartedly on the airship. He seemed to be alone, and I looked around, puzzled when I found no injuries in sight.

"Is Rorschach alright?" I asked. Night Owl spun round, startled by my sudden appearance.

"How did you know?" he seemed utterly confused.

"What do you mean?" It was my turn to be confused. "I just met him. He's sitting in the tunnel a couple of hundred yards back."

He cursed under his breath and jumped down next to me.

"I knew I should have made him come back here." He looked at me and sighed. "He's been _shot _for Christ's sake, and he's refusing medical help and is fixated on getting home to do it himself. That's why I called you out."

We were hurrying back down the tunnel at this point.

"If he's refusing medical attention then I really don't see how I'm going to help."

"I realise that. But I didn't know who else I could call. I apologise. He isn't going to make this easy."

"Heard that," came a rasping voice from in front of us. We came to a stop and Night Owl crouched down by the side of the masked man.

"It's true though, isn't it?"

Rorschach didn't reply. He looked over at Night Owl, pointedly ignoring me.

"You called the doc." It was a simple statement, yet the patterns on his face seemed challenging, like he was expecting an answer.

"Yes. I did. Because you've just proved admirably that you can't make it back to your own home and as much as you hate to admit it, you need help."

"Don't need help. Just resting. I'm going now." He turned to me. "Sorry he wasted your time."

He made to get up but staggered and fell over. I caught him and he jumped back as if he'd been electrocuted, crashing against the tunnel wall and grabbing at an overhead pipe for purchase. It was then that I noticed he was holding his left arm awkwardly across his body, and the obvious pain it caused him to move it.

"No, you don't need help," said Night Owl sarcastically. Rorschach growled.

"Look, if you're in pain then you need help," I said. "I don't bite you know."

"Don't need help," he repeated. He let go of the pipe and pushed past me into the darkness. I looked at Night Owl. I couldn't make out his face well, but I could tell that he was seething with a mixture of anger and worry.

"Stubborn… paranoid… neurotic…" He continued in this vein for a few moments until we heard a faint thud from along the passage. We looked at each other and set off at a run, eventually coming to a stop by a ladder much like the one I used to gain access to the tunnel. Rorschach was lying flat on his back at the bottom.

"Jesus Christ! Rorschach!"

The prone figure grunted and attempted to sit up before deciding against it and staring up at us.

"Hard to climb one handed."

"Are you out of your mind!?" exclaimed Night Owl, although the relief in his voice was unmistakeable. "Will you accept now that you aren't going to get home and that the only option is to come back to the cave? Don't answer that, I know you're going to say no." He reached down and took Rorschach's good arm, heaving him off the ground and taking his weight round his shoulders.

"Wait…" The injured party struggled in Night Owl's grip, freeing his good arm and reaching backwards.

"Oh no… you aren't going anywhere. You don't get a choice in the matter anymore in case you end up dead from sheer tenacity."

Rorschach continued to struggle until his fingertips gained purchase on his fedora and he jammed it back on his head. Night Owl sighed, unable to find words to sum up his exasperation and began to go back the way we'd just come. I followed with my bag, busying my mind with the tools I would need for the job.

Back at the cave I tried to be as brief and business-like as I could. Rorschach and I already shared a strained working relationship from the one occasion that we had met and I doubted that this incident was going to help matters.

"I'm going to need to see the wound," I said pointedly. "I can't sew you up through a raincoat."

Gingerly he shrugged the trench off his shoulder and pushed up the ruby-stained sleeve beneath it, although I couldn't tell if the reluctance was through pain or distrust. The puncture wound was clear to see now, and luckily the bullet hadn't gone deep. For what it was, it wasn't serious, but it still required a professional touch. He'd lost a lot of blood and his hands were shaking. Whilst I didn't doubt his ability to patch himself up – the web of scar tissue on his skin was evidence enough of previous attempts – to do home-surgery this time would have done far more harm than good. I prepared a shot of morphine but he shrank away from the needle.

"It's just morphine," said Night Owl. "It'll help with the pain. It's nothing untoward."

"I can deal with pain."

His voice was hard. There was to be no arguing the issue. I put down the needle and went to swab the wound with iodine but again he stiffened as I neared him.

"It's iodine," I said. "The wound has got to be cleaned." No positive response. "Would you rather end up with no arm?"

"Water will do."

"Rorschach," Night Owl began.

"Night Owl," came the growled interruption. The darkened patches on the mask and the low voice managed to convey his thoughts in those two words. He'd consented to a virtual stranger coming into his personal space, but he was still going to call the shots for as long as possible. Night Owl threw his hands up in defeat and took some cotton wool from my bag, disappearing up the stairs and through the door above me. I didn't have time to wonder what lay beyond, I was too concerned with what I should do if Rorschach tried to make a run for it whilst Night Owl's back was turned. Something told me that physical contact would not be a good idea. He kept looking from me to the tunnel, face constantly moving. I could tell he was considering it.

Before long however, Night Owl had returned, the cotton wool dripping. I took it and dabbed at the wound, trying to be as gentle as possible. I had never really been scared of Rorschach per se until this moment. Perhaps I was working under the impression that the less I hurt him, the less reason he'd have to hurt me in return. I was afraid to get my tools out. Having seen his reaction to morphine and an iodine swab, I dreaded to think what he'd do when he saw the pliers I was going to use to pull the bullet out. I took a deep breath and pulled them out. He stood suddenly but found his escape path blocked by Night Owl.

"You are a really, really bad patient," he sighed, pushing him back into a sitting position and holding him there. "And that's the understatement of the century. How else are you going to get bullets out?"

"Use fingers," muttered Rorschach. "Safer than butchering equipment."

Night Owl looked at me. I shrugged. If it was the only way to solve the problem then it wasn't impossible. I was running out of time before I would be missed back at the hospital. I prised the bullet out with my fingers and began to sew up before he had a chance to argue. I heard him exhale with pain but he said nothing, watching me carefully. As soon as I'd tied off the last suture he was up like a shot, pulling his coat back on and making his way towards the stairs that Night Owl had disappeared up to fetch the water.

"Going up the front way. Easier than climbing."

"Bandage?" asked Night Owl.

"Got bandages at home."

With that he was gone, vanished through the door without another word. Night Owl shook his head.

"I don't know. If his leg fell off he'd rather superglue it on himself than go to a doctor. Thank you for coming. We do appreciate you coming. Well." He paused, glancing up at the door. "Some of us do."

I suppressed a smile as I tidied up, thankful for coming out of the situation unharmed. As I made for the tunnel again, I heard Night Owl disappear up the stairs. I slipped into the darkness, wondering what could be found behind the door.

* * *

**Note 2: **(Kimmeth borrows her flatmate's colander and puts it on her head as protection from the Rorschach fans before awaiting their reaction nervously.)

I knew from the beginning of the prologue that Rorschach's injury would be a gunshot wound. His costume isn't all that bulletproof, and I reckon that's the only thing serious enough for him not to be able to muddle through himself. I also reckon that Dan is the only person he vaguely trusts in his personal space.

I sound really paranoid saying this now but, well, I **am** paranoid - please don't stop reading now we've had Rorschach's chapter! I'm hoping that Dr M and Ozy will prove just as interesting!


	6. Dr Manhattan

**Note: **Ok, I have cheated with this chapter slightly. Seeing as though Dr Manhattan is virtually invincible, I gave up trying to injure him and instead tried to think of a situation in which he'd need the doctor without being injured himself.

Like with Rorschach, I had an idea and said 'let's run with it', but it took a long while to make it work.

This chapter is also different to the rest because it doesn't involve Dan in the first part. As much as I tried to avoid it, the only way I could make the situation work was to narrate the first part from Dr M's POV.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Dr Manhattan**

They were too late. Rorschach let out a roar of rage and kicked the front door of the house, already hanging off its hinges. It fell to the ground with a deafening thud, and the destruction seemed to calm him momentarily before he pushed past his colleagues and bounded up the stairs. The body in the hallway showed signs of a struggle, but Jon knew that the homeowner was dead, even before Laurie had stood from checking for a pulse.

"He put up quite a fight," she said. The man was in his mid thirties and wearing pyjamas, the pistol that he had threatened his attackers with a few yards from the body. Jon looked sadly down at the man and remembered the circumstances that had lead them to be in the darkened hallway. He and Laurie had been on a regular patrol when they'd been ambushed by Rorschach, his face shifting quicker than usual in violent anger and his words coming in a rapid, incoherent jumble. He had mentioned something about a gang going to a house; they planned to rob it; they were armed; he had followed but lost them, and then he had found Jon and Laurie and coerced their assistance. They had teleported halfway across the city only to find the house deserted, the evidence of a ransack clear to see. They had entered cautiously, and found that they had been too late to prevent death.

The sound of something being thrown upstairs brought Jon back to the present. He and Laurie looked at each other for a few moments before running to find their teammate. Rorschach was standing over the body of a young woman, scarlet pooling on the floor from the bullet hole in her temple.

"My fault," he growled. "If I hadn't lost them… Got here quicker… Wouldn't have happened."

"Don't blame yourself," said Laurie softly. "It happens. You can't be everywhere at once."

Rorschach grunted and turned to Jon.

"_You _can."

"Rorschach, I…" he began, but something caught his seething comrade's attention and he moved away, picking something off the floor beneath the open window and looking around the room pointedly for clues. He didn't say anything as he prowled through the rooms on the first floor, but when he returned to Jon and Laurie the patches of his face revealed utter fury.

"There was a child." Jon looked down to see the item that he'd picked up from the floor. It was a child's teddy bear, worn around the edges with love. "They took the child."

He took a running jump out of the window. Jon heard the muttered words that he said as he leapt: _going to kill them!!!_

"We should go," he said to Laurie.

"What about the crime scene?" she asked.

"The police will be here soon. They can deal with the crime scene. At the moment I am more concerned with finding Rorschach before he does something stupid."

They left the house and moved into the side alley that the robbers-turned-kidnappers had obviously used as an escape route. Jon could envisage Rorschach running along it, swift and silent in search of his foes. Concentrating on that vision, he reached out across time and space until he found him, and he willed himself and Laurie into the same part of the dimension. Laurie retched momentarily beside him as a result of the sudden travel. Rorschach turned to them, angry.

"I nearly had them. Lost them again. Ran away when you appeared. Scared of you."

"Rorschach, death isn't always the best solution."

"Death is the only solution. They take lives, we take theirs."

"Rorschach…"

"Wait!" Laurie's voice was stern, breaking up the argument abruptly. She was bending down a few yards away from them, crouched over a bundle in a darkened corner of the alley. Jon went over to investigate. It was the child from the house, half-hidden in the mail-sack that the kidnappers had used to transport it. It was a cold March night, and the boy was shivering violently, clad only in pyjamas. He could only have been about four or five years old. He was conscious, something that Laurie noted with a sigh of relief, but although his eyes were open, they were unseeing, staring straight ahead of him and making no effort to recognise the fact that a bright blue man had just appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

Behind them, Rorschach growled and took off again down the alley in search of the criminals.

"Rorschach, come back!" Laurie scrambled to her feet and ran off after him, leaving Jon alone in the alley with the boy. He didn't know what he should do. He had never been good with children, even before the accident. He could foresee that he was going to be at the cave soon… He looked down again at the boy, still shivering violently, his breath condensing in the air. He needed to get inside before he froze, to a safe place where he would be shielded from the consequences of Rorschach's rampage – it would be a particularly bloody rampage, Jon could foresee his return to the cave in the aftermath – and their base of operations seemed to be as good a place as possible. He gathered up the child in his arms gingerly, unsure of how much of his superhuman strength he needed to exert, feeling awkward and unnatural with his burden.

Jon focussed on the cave, willing himself there in a split second. He placed the boy on the ground, anxious should he feel the same effects of teleportation as Laurie did. There was no change. He stayed staring blindly into the middle distance, limp and unresponsive, as if his mind was trapped within a paralysed body.

Jon knew it was something to do with the traumatic ordeal that he had just experienced, but he couldn't work out how or why. It was a very human reaction, one that he no longer felt himself, and he couldn't relate to it, let alone know how to stop it. Dan or Laurie would know, but they weren't there. What if the condition was medical? They wouldn't be able to help anyway.

But someone else could. Jon's eyes flickered to the phone and he thought of the doctor whose services his teammates had required more than once. It was as good a solution as any.

He looked around for the number, only vaguely aware of the time he was choosing to call at.

* * *

The phone ringing woke me with a start. It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts before I realised what was happening and reached over to answer it, wondering who could be phoning at this time of night. As soon as I picked up the receiver, I had a grim idea as to my caller's identity.

"Hello?" I said blearily.

"Doctor, we need you." The voice was all too familiar, making me sit bolt upright, fully awake. It was one of the Watchmen, but it wasn't Night Owl. As I flew around the house in the semi-darkness I wondered why I had been called by the one member of the group who had absolutely no need for a doctor whatsoever. Everyone knew that the famous Dr Manhattan was virtually indestructible. Terrible vision after terrible vision ran through my brain, and I envisaged a doomsday scenario, all the Watchmen struck down and in need of aid apart from one. I shook myself out of that thought, scolding myself for letting my imagination run away with me, but all the same, I decided to drive the short distance to the subway entrance instead of walking it, to save what precious time I could. My mind was still hard at work as I neared the cave, finding it dimly lit from both the ceiling lamps and the blue glow from my caller.

"Dr Manhattan?" I called. "I'm here."

He turned and smiled, relieved.

"What's the problem?" I asked, but before he could reply, I saw for myself. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the shivering child on the floor of the cave.

"I don't know what the problem is. That's why I called you," said Dr Manhattan.

"He's in shock," I replied. That was plain to see. "And he's freezing cold. Blankets, quickly, we need to warm him up and insulate him." I shrugged off my white coat and wrapped it tightly around the child. In doing so I saw his face fully, and I again found myself short of breath. I recognised the boy. I had treated him in the hospital a few months ago for a virus. I hadn't heard any movement on his saviour's part, but suddenly he was beside me, a pile of blankets and towels in his arms. I busied myself with making him as warm and insulated as possible before turning my companion.

"What happened? Something terrible must have happened to this child. People don't go into psychological shock for no reason. Where did you find him?"

I could feel my eyes widen in horror as Dr Manhattan relayed his story.

"So I called you," he finished eventually. "I didn't understand what was happening to him. It was something alien to me. It was too… human. It's strange that a 'doctor' should have to call a doctor."

"Yes, I suppose it is." I wasn't giving him my full attention. Now that I knew the story, I was more concerned with treating my patient. I turned to the child, checking his breathing and heartbeat. Dr Manhattan watched me closely, absorbing everything I did with unnerving concentration. I focussed on the task at hand.

"Billy?" I said gently, remembering his name from the last time we met. "Billy, can you hear me?"

There was a brief flicker of recognition in his otherwise impassive face. Whether it was the familiarity of my face or his name, I couldn't tell, but whatever it was seemed to be working.

"Familiarity," I muttered aloud.

I didn't need to say anything more before Dr Manhattan appeared suddenly by my side again, holding out a worn teddy bear. Billy saw it, and the flicker of recognition became permanent as he reached out of his cocoon of blankets for his toy.

"How did you know?" I asked Dr Manhattan in awe.

"I remembered seeing the bear at the house. Rorschach picked it up from under the window. He must have been holding it when he was taken."

"You do know how the human mind works, then," I said. The unworldly blue figure looked… not sad, but distant.

"No, not really. Logic led me to that conclusion. Pure logic."

I shrugged and turned to Billy.

"Billy, can you hear me?"

He nodded, and the relief that flooded my veins at that point was indescribable.

"We're going to take you somewhere safe. Everything's going to be alright. Don't worry. Keep hold of Teddy. You're going to be safe now. Do you feel poorly?"

He shook his head, clutching his teddy to his chest. His eyes strayed from me to the other person in the room and widened in a mixture of fear and curiosity. I smiled, pleased to see a reaction to the situation, but I was still worried.

"Where can we take him?" asked Dr Manhattan, voicing my exact thoughts.

"I'll take him to the hospital," I said, eventually forming a plan. "Keep him in for observation and talk to the police tomorrow."

"Ok." He moved to pick up the boy, but I stopped him.

"I don't think that teleporting into the hospital would be a good idea," I said. He seemed surprised, but accepted.

"No, I suppose you're right."

"I have a car near the entrance," I assured him. "I'll be fine."

He looked at me as I packed up my stethoscope, watching me with the same curiosity as he had done earlier. It was unworldly almost, as if he was fascinated by the things that seemed to me to be second nature. Perhaps it was because he was a lay-person. Maybe anyone would view my equipment in the same way. But something in the back of my mind told me that wasn't the reason. There was another dimension in there somewhere. Not only was he seeing me from a non-medical point of view, he was seeing me from a non-_human_ point of view. I suppressed a shiver at the thought, but it was the only logical explanation I could find for his unsettling observation.

Before I could give it any more consideration, my train of thought was interrupted by two sets of footsteps coming along the tunnel. I looked up to see Rorschach and Silk Spectre hurrying along the train tracks. Rorschach's coat and mask were stained dark red, and I knew instinctively that this time the blood was not his own.

"Scum taken care of," he said gruffly.

"Is the kid ok?" asked Silk Spectre.

I looked over at Billy. He had curled up within his blankets, using Teddy as a pillow, and was dozing in a light slumber.

"He'll be alright," I said. "He'll always have the memories, but at the moment he's fine. He's got over the initial shock. I'm taking him to the hospital."

I went to pick him up but I then remembered that the journey back to my car involved climbing up a ladder.

"I'll bring the child," said Dr Manhattan, as if he was reading my thoughts. I couldn't tell if he was or not, if he had simply used infallible logic like before. He picked up Billy and vanished. I said my goodbyes to Silk Spectre and Rorschach and made my way down the tunnel...

* * *

I was a little startled to find the 'other' doctor, as I had come to call him, waiting patiently beside my car when I returned from signing Billy into the hospital. He had obviously followed me. I was about to ask why when he spoke.

"Thank you for coming. I wouldn't have known what to do."

"Don't mention it."

"It's strange, the way things affect the human mind. I can't always understand them. But I'm trying." He looked apologetic. "I unnerved you earlier. I'm sorry. I just wanted to learn what was happening."

Strange as it was, his apology unnerved me even more than his observation had. It served as confirmation of his difference from the rest of humanity.

"I'd better go," I said. "It's late."

"Yes. I suppose it is."

We said goodbye and I drove home slowly, watching him vanish suddenly in my rear-view mirror. Perhaps it wasn't fair to judge him like that, to mark him off as alien. After all, he was trying to understand and to fit in. But at the same time, the very fact that he needed to try was in itself such an obvious mark of his inability to see the world through human eyes that it was difficult to think of him in any other light.

Mind you, I thought to myself, my mind wandering to the rest of the Watchmen and their exploits. Could any of them be called truly normal?

* * *

**Note: **Blimey. That's all I can say at the moment. That was a challenge. My arms hurt from typing.

Please comment. I know it wasn't exactly similar to the others, but I hope you found the character exploration interesting none the less.

One more chap (again proving a nightmare to write – damn you Ozy!) and an epilogue to come…


	7. Ozymandias

**Disclaimer:** Thank you thank you thank you to **Demkat**, who gave me the initial inspiration for this idea. I would not have been able to write it without you!

**Note:** This one was a mission and a half. After having no ideas, an epiphany finally struck in the middle of a grammar lecture. I was so excited that I started plotting right away, and I promptly missed the most important bit of the lecture. If I fail German grammar, I shall blame Ozy.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Ozymandias**

The people who were meant to be the rescuers in a hostage situation weren't usually meant to make it worse, thought Dan as he pulled his cowl up over his mouth and nose to block out the thick smoke that was pouring up through the floorboards of the apartment building. But when Eddie was involved, and when Eddie had decided to give his flamethrower a rare outing, nothing happened as it was supposed to. That was why there were the charred bodies of six terrorists on three floors below and why he and Adrian were shepherding ten people away from the blaze, ready to hand them over to the fire department with their long ladders brought right up to the burning building.

They had nearly managed it. They had almost managed to get everyone out of the building safely before Eddie had decided to take his and Rorschach's fight up a gear, and he'd sent a jet of flame at one of them. It had caught the curtains, spread to the wallpaper, and soon they had found themselves in the midst of an all out inferno. The apartment block was old and didn't conform to the latest safety laws. The flames had spread with the ferocity of a bush fire, and before they knew it three floors of the building had been consumed. Eddie and Rorschach had managed to jump to safety before timber started to fall, but that had left Dan and Adrian with the unenviable task of herding the hostages to safety. They reached the window and began to hand them over to the fire department. It took such a long time to get everyone clear, and the more Dan tried to hurry, the slower the process seemed to go. Finally they were all clear and the fire engine moved away from the building, allowing Laurie to pull Archie up just below the window. Adrian came up alongside him and they paused at the window frame, ready to jump clear of the building.

It was then that the charred floorboards emitted an almighty creak and gave way beneath them, plunging them through three storeys of flaming rooms. Dan groaned as he got up, the thick smoke making him cough even through his makeshift mask, and he rubbed his forehead where he'd hit the floor, looking around for his comrade.

"Adrian? You ok?"

There was no reply, and Dan peered through the smoke. Even though he felt like he was boiling in his own sweat inside his costume, he felt the usual icy rush of fear and adrenaline on seeing a dark shape slumped a few metres away, flames licking at it. He fought his way over, avoiding the smouldering debris and stamping out the fire in the immediate area. He turned the body over to find a pulse, his stomach turning at the sight of charred and melted fabric and burnt skin. He breathed a sigh of relief on finding a pulse and stood again, trying to form a plan.

"Dan!" He looked up through the holes in the floorboards above him to see Laurie leaning in precariously through the window. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Adrian isn't though."

"You've got to get out; the fire department says the building will go any minute."

Dan looked around as he pulled Adrian up and took his weight round his shoulders. All his possible exit points were blocked by fallen masonry, and it would take too long to try and shift it.

"I can't."

He saw the panic in Laurie's face for a split second before she disappeared from the window. The few seconds that passed went by achingly slowly, and then she reappeared with another face. Rorschach took a second to analyse the situation before he swung himself into the window. Dan could see what he was going to do and groaned.

"No, Rorschach, don't be a hero!"

Rorschach ignored him and jumped, landing with a clumsy sort of grace beside him.

"Thought that was the whole point?" he coughed. "We're superheroes, aren't we? Bring Veidt."

He fired his grappling gun up to the window ledge. Laurie caught the hook and disappeared. He tested the strength of the cable and then, somewhat gingerly, held out a hand to Dan.

"Come on. Haven't got all day."

Dan took his hand and then they were flying up through the floorboards until they reached the window frame, scrambling through it and landing heavily on Archie. Eddie opened the hatch for them and they pulled themselves and Adrian inside, their injured teammate spluttering as he came round. Dan scrambled to the front and took over the controls from Laurie.

"What happened?" she asked as he brought the airship into land and jumped out, intent on reaching his goal.

"What usually happens when someone gets too near to fire?" He set off through the throng of people, intent on reaching the payphone at the corner of the street, half-hidden behind all the police cruisers.

"Where are you going?" Laurie called after him.

"We need the doctor," he replied over his shoulder. He finally reached the phone and dialled the number that he now knew by heart.

"Please wait whilst we redirect your call."

Dan tapped his fingers against the phone box impatiently. He knew that the doctor wouldn't be at home, it was the middle of the day for god's sake, but that hadn't stopped him hoping.

"Lenox Hill hospital switchboard, who can I connect you to?"

Dan gave the name and held his breath, waiting for the phone to connect and the doctor's familiar voice to answer.

"I'm sorry; the doctor isn't in at the moment. Can I take a message?"

Dan's blood froze.

"No, it's ok." He hung up and rested his forehead on the phone box for a moment, feeling for the first time a sense of utter helplessness. He looked up at the sky and yelled, confident that he wouldn't be heard above the noise of the crowd.

"Doctor! We need you!"

* * *

I thundered down the train tracks as fast as I could. I knew I wouldn't beat them to the cave but I could at least try. It was the first time I was going there without specifically being invited, but I knew that I was needed. I hadn't known what was going on; I'd simply been a spectator in the grand scheme of things, kept in the dark like everyone else who stood on the sidewalk watching a fight to the death between the Watchmen and a band of hostage takers. I'd jumped like the rest of them when the building burst into flames, although I had a grim idea of who had caused the blaze. It was only afterwards that I'd heard Night Owl's voice above the rumpus of the crowd fussing over the hostages and the fire department trying to salvage the building. It had been exasperated and raw; the voice of a man who'd had enough.

"Doctor!" he'd cried. "We need you!"

I'd tried to make my way over but I couldn't cross the police line. It was then that I'd made the decision to go straight to the cave. As I'd hurried along the back streets, empty of people save for the few too detached from the world to take an interest in the spectacle a few blocks away, I'd seen the airship swoop overhead, and I'd picked up my pace until I was back in the tunnel again.

I could see the light and hear fractious raised voices.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Night Owl roared. "You can't use a flamethrower in an apartment building for fuck's sake!"

"I didn't exactly plan on razing the place!" replied the Comedian. His voice seemed calmer than his adversary's but there was definite anger behind it.

"What the fuck did you think would happen with a four foot jet of flame in an enclosed space with no fireproofing? You could've got all of us killed! Hell, you nearly did get two of us killed!"

"It was not my fault that we were trying to take out the bastards in a structurally unsound building! I didn't know that the bloody floorboards were going to cave!"

"No, we didn't either, that's why we need the bleeding doctor!"

"I'm here," I said, running into the cave and taking a moment to catch my breath and take in the situation. Night Owl and the Comedian were standing at the grab ready in the centre of the room, the former nursing an impressive bruise on his forehead. Rorschach was in his customary position in the half shadows on the balcony, picking at the singed brim of his fedora. There was silence on my arrival, but I could tell that the argument was going to carry on as soon as I left, probably before.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

Night Owl didn't say anything; he just jerked his head towards the corner. Silk Spectre and Ozymandias were on the floor, pressing dripping compresses to the latter's arm. The fire damage was clear to see from charred costume alone, and it didn't take a medical degree to work out what the injury was. I went over and opened my bag.

"How bad is it?" I asked. I was prepared for the vast majority of cases of varying severity, but burns might require debridement, absolutely impossible without a hospital.

They removed the compresses and I looked at the wounds, patches of red raw blistered skin intermittently up and down his arm. It was bad, but it wouldn't need hospitalisation if I could help it. I breathed a sigh of relief and they relaxed visibly. As I busied myself with injections and antibiotics and sterile dressings, the argument behind me began again.

"I didn't think that there would be a problem!"

"That's just it! You didn't think! You never think! You go through life as if it's all a joke, as if nothing really matters. Fourteen people could have died thanks to your bloody ignorance! Yourself included! I don't find that funny!"

I had never heard Night Owl so angry, but I knew that my suspicions regarding the cause of the sudden fire in the apartment building were confirmed.

I gave my patient a shot of morphine. It was hard to focus on my task with the argument going on in such close proximity. From the sound of it, it was not the first time that such a topic had lead to raised voices.

"Have you had a tetanus shot in the last five years?" I asked Ozymandias. He shook his head and whilst I gave the second injection I allowed myself a few moments to ponder the paradox that they could lead two lives. The one I saw was not the one in which the ordinary limits of human life applied. Superheroes didn't need to worry about tetanus vaccines. Well, I thought grimly, checking to make sure that the blistered patches were free from burnt material and debris. They didn't need to worry about tetanus injections until they got trapped in burning buildings. I smeared some burn gel over my hand and began to dab it onto the wounds, flinching slightly as I heard the dispute reach its climax, with the Comedian storming away down the train tracks and the sound of something being thrown against the airship with great force.

"I apologise on their behalf," said Ozymandias, looking over my shoulder at his colleagues. His attention returned to his arm. "Is it bad?"

"Not as bad as it could be," I said, concentrating on bandaging his arm. I peeled off my slimy gloves and fished around for another pair. Silk Spectre stayed watching the process, taking it all in. I hadn't noticed before just how young she seemed to be. My eyes flickered to her left thigh, the scar from the glass faded but still faintly visible. I opened my mouth to ask her how old she was but then I stopped myself. It wasn't my place to know. It had never crossed my mind before, and I didn't understand why it should now. Maybe it was the political climate. The politicians were debating the Keene Bill today, and tensions all through the city were high. Perhaps that was the cause of the argument, the gnawing fear that soon it could all be over. One thing was certain though: the Comedian's actions in the apartment building wouldn't have done anything to help the pro-mask cause…

I carefully wound a long roll of crepe round Ozymandias's arm, fixing the dressing pads in place, admonishing myself for daydreaming in the middle of something important.

"You'll need to get a professional to change the burn dressings," I said. "I'm afraid I can't help you as to an acceptable cover story for why you've got such an interesting injury."

"It won't be a problem," he assured me. I still couldn't quite place his voice, however many times I had heard it, always familiar but just not making itself known.

I gathered my things together and stood.

"Thank you," he said. His eyes flickered to the airship behind me. I turned to see Night Owl affecting some repairs, but in his anger it seemed that he was causing more damage than he was fixing. I knew that it wouldn't be profitable to hang around.

"Till next time," I said as I left. Just at the edge of my earshot I could make out Rorschach's quiet, gruff voice from the balcony.

"If there is a next time."

* * *

It had been a long day, especially since I'd had to go back to the hospital and concentrate on the rest of my shift after my excursion to the cave. The first thing I did when I finally got home was to flick the TV on. I wasn't really watching it, but a single sentence of the news made me stop what I was doing and turn to the screen.

The Keene Act was passed today.

* * *

**Note 2: **Blimey, I thought I'd never make it! I spent hours looking up how to treat burns and (somewhat sadistically) working out just how much damage I could inflict without needing to hospitalise him… And I wanted to get him right since he's my favourite character (well, after Bubastis... The actor's from my uni town! British solidarity here!)

**Note 3: **A couple of people have asked if I'm going to do more than one chapter per character. After a long period of intense thought I can conclude that this particular fic just has an epilogue to come and then it will close, BUT, I am going to write a sequel, in which everyone gets another go (more or less… the structure will change a bit). This one will be called 'An Outsider Looking Back', and I can't give away any more details else I'll spoil the epilogue (hint).


	8. Epilogue

**Note: **Well here it is. We've come to the end of the line. But, at the risk of turning into Dr M, nothing ever ends…

Please remember I am going from the film not the novel - basically no martian squids.

* * *

**An Outsider Looking In**

**Epilogue**

It's been over ten years since the Keene Act was passed, and much has happened in those ten years. But despite all the events that have occurred, despite all the tragedies and the sorrows much closer to home, I have never stopped waiting to receive the call once again and slip into the shadows to do my duty. I still have the instructions that Night Owl gave me, although I don't need to look at the paper anymore. I know them by heart. Sometimes I find myself wandering along in that direction, but I always turn away at the last minute. Even though the team has long gone, I know that it seems sacrilegious to break the unspoken agreement that we shared. I came when I was needed, never of my own accord.

Yes, it's been an interesting ten years, with interesting experiences.

Watching the cold war doomsday clock become ever closer to midnight, wondering if we would ever have peace again and, conversely, if we had ever had peace in the first place…

Watching reports of Rorschach's continued activity in the vigilante sphere – I knew it would take more than a bounty to stop him. It would take more than a gun, even…

Watching the chief of police triumphantly announcing that he'd been caught, and cheering inwardly when he consequently started a riot and escaped, never to be seen again…

Watching the city be destroyed by the man who was supposed to have protected it, the man who talked to me about humanity and the man who I refused to believe would do such a thing…

Watching Nixon's speech announcing a new world peace, and wondering sceptically how long it would last…

Watching Veidt promise to rebuild the city, and asking myself why his eyes seemed insincere…

Watching the world go by, wondering where the Watchmen were…

I helped them all at some point or another, and at the time I never asked questions. I always kept myself as separate from their world as I could.

But during these past ten years, things have changed.

I know who they were, I know the identities behind the masks, and I know of the double lives they used to lead.

I didn't go looking for the answers to the many questions that I had kept suppressed during my time with them. Unlike our code for medical attention, they always came to me. I didn't go to them.

I had always said to myself that I didn't want to know. But now that I do know, I can't imagine a time when I didn't.

I think of these things as I sit at my desk during a break in my night shift, viewing the construction site in the distance that was once the city centre. The phone on my desk rings and I answer it melancholy.

"An outside call for you, doctor," says the switchboard. "Putting you through."

" Hello?" I say, and my heart leaps as I hear the voice I've been waiting for these past ten years.

"Doctor, we need you."

* * *

**Note 2: **Well, hopefully that's given you a cryptic little idea of what 'An Outsider Looking Back' will be about… (The doctor will remain anonymous if it kills me!)

**Note 3: **The sequel may take longer to appear because I go home from uni tomorrow and I won't get as much time alone with my laptop, and I certainly won't be able to post chapters at half past midnight, which is what I've been doing for the past week or so.

Well, I will bid you farewell for now, but I won't be gone for too long...


End file.
